


We Don't Want to Lose You

by Spongeekat



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Peter Needs a Hug, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11661015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spongeekat/pseuds/Spongeekat
Summary: Fanfic Request : "Spideypool (and/or superfamily) where no one realizes how fucked up peter is until someone sees cuts on his arms"AKA Peter has been secretly suffering for years, but is bad at opening up. And then it builds too far.





	We Don't Want to Lose You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request I recieved anonymously on tumblr about 4 months ago?? but I got caught up in adult life and couldn't wirte it until now. I felt like my writing was totally off the entire fic, but I hope you still enjoy it! 
> 
> Also, just a reminder, I do (free) requests on my tumblr for drabbles or fics!! Feel free to send me ideas!   
> (especially A/B/O or angst lolol) 
> 
> Spideypoolhell.tumblr.com

The first time Peter was caught trying to kill himself, he was 17 years old. 

\-------  
Peter was an adorable kid. 

His large, brown eyes lit up whenever his superpowered family returned home from a mission, greeting each of the Avengers with a warm smile, rambling off questions about their adventures one by one. He took care to assess everyone’s wounds, helping Bruce to clean the minor ones. If anyone returned incapacitated, he stayed by their side to assure they wouldn’t wake up alone. 

He did well in school despite rough patches in his childhood, and no longer living with his Aunt and Uncle, he took care to bring every A and school project to their house when he went to visit. He kept a careful schedule to assure he would call his Aunt at least once a week to update her on his life, and went out for lunch dates twice as often. 

He kept his bedroom _somewhat clean_ when he wasn’t tiring away at science projects, and worked with Tony in the lab while making sure his father didn’t starve himself sick. He helped Steve with the domestic side of the household, and kept the other Avengers entertained in their days off. 

He stayed by his Aunt’s side through his Uncle’s death and the 6 month recovery, keeping her on her feet even when he was struggling to stay on his. And when he finally returned to the Stark Tower to live with his adoptive parents once more, he revealed the powers he’d kept hidden the past year. And then he worked with the Avengers, putting his life on the line to make sure others didn’t have to. 

He was caring. He was sweet. He was happy. 

...He was happy...

Wasn’t he? 

Bruce had been the one to find Peter. He’d been passing by the bathroom on coincidence, heading to his lab well past midnight to fiddle with gear when he couldn't sleep. A retching sound from inside had immediately stopped him in his tracks, and he'd tumbled through the door a second later.

When the lights flickered to life, he certainly hadn't expected to find Peter collapsed on the floor, clutching onto his stomach as if it was being ripped out. Empty prescription bottles laid scattered around him, and from the bloody vomit, he could see Peter's body was rejecting the pills faster than they could kill him. An hour of non stop begging, and Bruce had promised not to go wake up his parents while he was treated in the tower. Peter had given his word not to attempt to hurt himself again, and Bruce told Steve and Tony their son had the flu. He’d kept close eyes over him the next year, and when Peter showed no other signs of another suicide attempt, he'd dropped the matter. It was a mistake he regretted immensely. 

The signs that anything was off were few and far, to the point they weren't concerning. He’d been diagnosed with anxiety when Tony and Steve had first adopted him, though they took careful care to regulate medication and therapy visits until he had started to feel more level. When Gwen had first died he’d been depressed and inconsolable, and Tony and Steve were the first to encourage him to take time off from being a hero to recover. He was difficult to open up, and he appeared frustratingly optimistic at all times, making it near impossible to tell when he was actually struggling. 

So it was quite jarring for the Avengers to find themselves staring at evidence Peter was slowly crumbling under their weight. 

The gym was silent. Steve and Bucky had broken their pattern of hooks to freeze with their gloves still in the air, eyes trained on the slim thigh that was bridged between Peter’s hip and Natasha’s arm. Tony had been running on the treadmill, which was now quietly buzzing behind him. Bruce and Wanda had only come down to see the bout between Natasha and Peter, the former’s fingers wrapped tightly around his ankle that she held high. His shorts had ridden up when a flying kick had been stopped by her grip, and he was now crushed under the suffocating tension. Hard eyes stared back at him, and with a sharp tug on his leg, Peter had pulled his foot back into himself and pulled on the hems of his shorts to keep them down. 

“What the hell are those?” Natasha repeated with an intimidating fierceness that could make anyone wince. The 20 year old in question stared back at her as if he was about to be hit by a speeding truck, and with the heroes now gaping at him, that was very much possible. 

“Scars from a fight.” Peter returned automatically, his hand covering them self consciously beneath the polyester. “It’s nothing. Seriously, Nat. I just got hurt one time and they never healed properly.” 

The lines were too straight and thin, filed messily in a patch down his otherwise unmarked thigh. 

“Do you think we’re stupid?” Tony’s frown grew to match the others in the room, and while he sounded angry, it was clear worry was overtaking him even more so. “Did you do that? To yourself?” 

“Maybe the three of us should discuss this somewhere private.” Steve’s gentle voice suggested, his hand clamping down on Tony’s shoulder to halt his descent on the wide-eyed Peter that looked like he’d been cornered. 

“We can talk right here.” Tony challenged, sharp eyes never once leaving the quivering boy. “Have you been cutting yourself?” 

“No. This isn’t something we need to talk about.” Peter snapped suddenly, withdrawing from the mat as he backed away towards the exit. “It’s none of your business. Can you guys just drop it?”

“We’re definitely not ignoring that, Peter.” Steve’s voice was harder this time, and even he looked like he wanted to reach out and stop him from leaving. “This isn’t something we can brush off. If there’s something wrong that you’re not telling us about that’s leading you to hurt yourself, you need to let us know. We can’t help unless you want us to.”

Peter’s chest began to constrict from the panic of the confrontation. He never wore shorts, maybe twice he’d donned cargo shorts for a family outing in the past 5 years, and today he had felt a weird bout of security that in the heat of the summer, no one would look twice at his legs. Even more so, he thought the scars had been blending more in his skin, yet apparently that wasn’t enough for superhero eyes not to catch them. 

Pressure spread from his chest into his head. He grimaced from the tightness, taking another careful step back. “I said I didn’t need help. Nothing is wrong.” He insisted once more, the fullness of his mind growing heavier. His eyes widened, then his head turned rapidly to Wanda. “And stay out of my head. I didn’t ask for some Avenger’s therapy session, and I don’t want anyone digging around in my thoughts. Please just... I have to head up and do homework before patrol. I gotta go.” 

Peter all but swung up the stairs as he scrambled to the glass door and drug it open, his feet moving lightning quick to carry him up into the tower. 

There was a stunned silence left behind after Peter had cleared out, the other Avengers staring at the spot left behind as they weren’t entirely sure what to say to alleviate the situation. Bucky took his quiet leave, and Wanda wasn’t far behind, apologizing for scaring Peter off. Tony grabbed his bag to call it a night, though, as he turned around, he was met with the concerned expression of Bruce staring right back at him. 

“There’s something I need to tell you. About Peter.” The scientist spoke carefully, keeping his tone level. “I’m sorry to have kept this from you for so long. I had promised I wouldn’t say anything, and he never gave me a reason to.” 

“That’s alright.” Steve cut in before Tony could demand an answer from Bruce, pulling on his shirt sleeve as he approached. “You were respecting his privacy. But if we should be worried, it would be nice to know.” 

“Yes..uh.” Bruce heaved a small sigh, his fingertips rubbing circles against the bridge of his nose to alleviate the stress. “Then I’ll tell you everything.” 

\----

Tony wasn’t angry at either Bruce or Peter for not telling him. Hurt, maybe, though that was mainly derived from the fact that his son had been at a low enough point he’d tried to take his own life and he’d never been the wiser. In fact, he wasn’t sure how much attention he had even given Peter that week he was supposedly sick. The fact that he may have blown off caring for him altogether in the way of work was a guilt he couldn’t quite bear. 

He sat quietly on the couch beside Steve, a strong hand comfortingly caressing his thigh to keep him calm. Steve seemed just as stoic and lost in thought, neither really having reassuring words for each other at the moment. The prospect of coming dangerously close to losing the light that burned brightly in their life had been enough to scare them both into a mortified resolve. 

“I never thought it’d be him.” 

Steve looked up at the sound of Tony’s half-audible voice, his eyes softening. His fingers tightened to show he was there, though he could feel the way his husband tensed even under his grip. “Tony... “ 

“I’m not saying it’s his fault.” Tony sighed thickly, and his fingers danced over the lip of his whiskey glass. “Obviously, this sort of thing isn’t a decision he made one morning. But I still feel like it was my fault. For never getting him help.” He dropped his head back on the sofa, the unfamiliar ceiling staring back at him. He didn’t spend much time in the apartment as of late. The thought made his lips purse. “Did we send him to a therapist? We didn’t, did we? I think, after Gwen, that was on my list of things to do. But work was more important. So I forgot. Or probably just crossed it off because it wasn’t important. But you know what was? Work.” 

“So we didn’t put in as much effort as we could have.” Steve’s hand went firm, and demandingly kept Tony’s attention on him. “And that was irresponsible. And I regret it as much as you do. But we also had _no idea_ what he was going through. He doesn’t exactly talk to us, even when we push. And we just got lucky that he wasn’t able to.. That he was able to heal.” He heaved a heavy sigh, and took a decisive drink of Tony’s alcohol that would have no effect on him. As expected, it barely even burned. “But now that we know, we can take the steps to help him. Find ways to make him happy...and Tony, you know the one person he’d be willing to open up to.” 

There was a long, heavy pause. And then a firm “no.” 

“I don’t like it, either. I don’t trust him. And he’s not a great influence on Peter. But he made him _happy_.” 

“He can’t love away depression.” 

“But he can encourage him to get help. And even if he won’t talk to us, he’ll at least still have a support system he’s comfortable with.” 

“You think a psychotic man my age is going to make him happier? He has more of a chance of dying with him.” Tony didn’t mind blunt, as much as he knew his words would only hurt Peter further if he were here. But Tony could never really stop himself, and he knew that was probably a reason why Peter was so depressed. “He _left_ him in the first place.” 

Steve sighed and picked himself up from the couch. He refused to fight over Peter’s rights to happiness as an adult. “You forced him to. If you really want to make things right, you need to stop interfering.” 

It was jarring, but it was true, and it left an awkward guilt in Tony for doing what he felt made him a good parent. Though it was obvious now he didn’t deserve that title. 

“I’ll have someone find him.” Tony finally caved, his hand clutching his pounding head to reign in the negative emotions. 

“Thank you.” Steve smiled, and Tony sent a silent prayer they were taking the right steps to saving their son’s life. 

\---

“It’s not a therapist, Peter. Just keep walking.” 

Peter threw an anxious and distrusting look back at Natasha, his intimidating Aunt barely an inch away to cover his exit. At least she had been upfront about keeping a hard watch over him these past couple of days. Everyone else acted like they were walking on broken glass around him, and he hated it. “You’re a professional liar, Nat.” 

The widow rolled her eyes and gave a firm shove to his shoulder, forcing him to continue down the brightly lit hallway to one of the business rooms in the tower. The summon had been spontaneous, though it seemed the others all knew what was coming. It was pretty eerie. 

They got to the doors with a minute to spare, and Natasha didn’t allow any time for him to stand and plan his escape before she was pushing open the doors. Inside, the bright light revealed his fathers standing in the doorway. Further back was Thor, and Bruce sat at the table. Next to him sat a red and black ghost that Peter hadn’t seen in over 2 years. His eyes instantly lit up when the man stood from the table, and they were on each other in a second. 

 

“Petey-Pie, you look as good as I remember you.” Wade enthused as he reached out his arms to catch him. “Can’t believe you’re really here and--!”   
“... _Ow_ , nice to see you too, sweetie.” 

“You lying jerk.” Peter stood over the crumpled Wade with his fist clenched tightly, skin slightly reddened from where he’d planted his hello to Deadpool’s masked cheek. The adults jumped at the sudden violent outlash, but none made to interfere. “You disappear for 2 years without so much as a word, then suddenly come back and expect me to be happy about it?” He breathed, staring him down with intense eyes. 

“I know! That was wrong. But I didn’t really wanna leave. I just had to ‘cause the Avengers thought I was a liability and all.” Wade shrugged, trying not to anger Peter any more, because he was damn strong and he had gotten punched in the face by a lot of angry strong people. “So you’re not happy to see me?” 

“...Of course I am.” Peter sunk to his knees directly into Wade’s arm, his arms casting over his neck as he held him as tightly as his anger would allow him to. Wade was all too happy to oblige. 

Natasha withdrew from the room shortly after, along with Bruce and Thor, when they had assured there was no violent intentions coming from Wade. Steve and Tony kept their overwatching positions, however, the distrust clear in their face and body language. 

“Hey, Peter.” Tony finally spoke, moving to sit down at the meeting table behind them. “You know why he’s here. So let’s talk.” He cast an inviting hand to the chairs situated across from him, though Peter chose to ignore it and stand. Fine. He had a right to be upset at having his privacy invaded. But Tony wasn’t going to give up this time. 

“He’s here because it was wrong to take him from you. You’re an adult, and as much as I hate that you can’t see he’s a bad influence--” 

“Tony.” 

Tony threw a look to Steve, relenting his sour mood for Peter’s sake. “You’re an adult, and I shouldn’t have made that kind of decision for you. I won’t stand in the way of you two anymore.” 

“Can I start calling you Dad?” 

“That’s pushing it, Wade.” 

“Got it.” 

“Anyways, Peter, there’s another reason why we brought him back.” Tony said as his expression grew a bit more serious, shifting forward in his seat. Peter felt the tension growing heavier in the room, knowing all eyes were trained on him at that point. He was tempted to take a step back, dip out before the conversation reached an uncomfortable level, but he was sure that was why Steve was still by the door in the first place. “You can’t keep whatever is hurting you to yourself. And we know you won’t talk to us. So we want you to have _someone_ you won’t just lie to.” 

“So you came back to spy on me?” Peter grimaced over at Wade, who instead shook his head back quickly. 

“No, no, never.” Wade insisted as he reached out to grip Peter’s hand. “I’m not gonna tell anyone if you ever decide to open up to me. Not even if I’m tortured. Cross my heart, still won’t die.” He seemed amused by his own joke, but continued to ramble off. “Anyways, baby boy, I just don’t want to see you hurting all alone. I wanna be here for you, even when you don’t want me. I know that isn’t a great deal. I wouldn’t want me around either. But I want to at least try to make you happy.” 

“I-It’s not that I’m exactly unhappy with my life and stuff. You guys are fine.” Peter frowned, hating himself for his decision not to cover up. It was a simple fact that could have easily avoided this discomfort and uncomfortable level of attention he wasn’t looking for. He appreciated them wanting to help, but he’d also dealt with heavy emotions alone for years, and he wasn’t about to ask for people to be a part of it. “And I’m glad, Wade, _really_ glad to have you back here. But I’m not just _sad_ I’m…” 

Peter’s voice trailed off, though no one spoke. They were waiting for an explanation Peter didn’t know how to give. 

“I just don’t feel… like I should… be here?” Peter said cautiously, turning his eyes down to the table. He didn’t want to face them, really not wanting to see their reactions to what he saw as dramatic thoughts. “Like, just after everything… I don’t deserve it.” 

“Peter, you--” 

“I know.” Peter sighed, cutting Steve off, as he closed his eyes and ran a stressed hand through his hair. It was tangled, not really having energy to brush it as of late. He hadn’t been sleeping particularly well, either. “I know that you’re going to tell me you guys love me, and that I’m Spider-Man and all, and _I know._ It’s not like it’s because of you guys, or anyone. It’s just… feelings I’ve had to deal with for a really long time. And I’ll work through them eventually. But I don’t want anyone forcing anything on me or… sending my ex-boyfriend to counsel or whatever.” 

There was a pause for it all to sink in. But they understood, at least as well as they could. 

“We’ll back off.” Tony relented, massaging the bridge of his nose. It was a hard promise to make, even harder to keep, but he knew pushing wouldn’t help. “You have to promise not to do anything stupid. Come to us, or that,” He said, jabbing a thumb at Wade. “If you’re having trouble.” 

“We don’t want to lose you.” Steve added, sighing lightly. 

“I… yeah. Sorry. I’ll try.” Peter mumbled with a hopeful look, though he knew it would take a while before he was ever ready to discuss the fucked up emotions and thoughts he suffered through. 

 

Maybe, though, he’d be able to ignore it long enough everyone forgot about the entire thing.

\-----

The second time Peter tried to kill himself, he was 22 years old. 

\----- 

Peter’s plan had succeeded. Tony became busy at work. Steve was forced into multiple Avenger’s missions a week, and replacing the gap that Tony left behind became a difficult task he was completely engrossed in. His family returned exhausted most nights at best; injured and sullen more often. Wade had to disappear at the 5th month mark to meet with some big contact in France that he promised didn’t include ‘un-aliving’ anyone who went down easily. So Peter was left to his own devices for extensive amounts of times. And while he had been doing fine in the eyes of Wade and his family, inwardly, he’d been having a rather tough time. 

The nightmare were what troubled him most at first. Repetitive images of Gwen’s lifeless body snapping haunted him most nights. Others, it was Wade screaming in pain that Peter couldn’t prevent. Sometimes it was the image of his Dad chugging whiskey like it was water. Sometimes it was Steve suppressing Bucky through his sleeping fits and the guilt stricken across his face. In the end, they left him a sweaty mess sitting alone on the ledge of the building, trying to calm himself off enough in the cool night air to go back to sleep. Until the day that nothing worked. 

He hadn’t felt right all morning. He was irritable and hollow, and it led to him snapping at Bruce when he’d checked in if he was okay. Apparently word went around that Peter wasn’t in the best mood, because no one else came around to bother him the rest of the day. He’d gotten a total of 1 hour of sleep the past 2 nights, and at this point he was downright void of energy or proper thoughts. He’d called Wade, desperate to stave off the anxiety and depression, but he never answered. Steve was asleep. Tony was gone. So Peter had decided to sleep it off. 

When he awoke, the tower was empty. His nightmare, this time, was about Eddy and Aunt May. Two people he’d dragged into his mess of mistakes that had suffered for it. The empty hole was festering in his chest, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. He felt numb. Every crater of his body was filled with buzzing negativity. He found himself stumbling up the wall to the one place he had learned to relax, the wind pulsing against his back the higher he climbed. Somewhere along his ascent he stopped. He wondered why he held on. He measured the agony he was feeling now and had been feeling for years to the painlessness of death. And somewhere along the line he had let go. Wind whistled in his ears. His body went into panic mode, and his own breathlessness made him black out. And he waited for the impact of the ground rushing up to meet him. 

He woke up with a killer headache, a broken arm, a few broken ribs, and sutures tucked into his lower abdomen. Tony slept on a chair in the corner of the hospital room. Steve was gone. Wade sat directly on the end of his bed, staring at him through his mask so intensely that it almost scared the shit out of him. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was raspy and barely came. Wade shook his head, reaching out to grip his hand as he scooted closer to speak softly as to not wake Tony up. 

“I love you.” Wade mumbled as he tugged his mask up to expose his lips. He pressed them gently to the back of Peter’s bruised hand, though the action felt heavy. “And I shoulda known you would do it. I think I did know, but I didn’t think you were doing that bad.” 

“Wade-...” 

“It’s okay, baby boy. Just listen.” 

Peter went quiet, which was better, anyways. It hurt to breathe. 

“I’m taking you away.” 

“What?” 

“Just you and me. And we’re gonna go vacation on an island, and watch girls dance in coconut bras, and fuck in the sand at night so I don’t get those burns on my ass.” 

“L-Look, that sounds nice, but school and work--” 

“And then you’re going to talk to me. Every day. I don’t care how long we have to stay. But I want to know every horrible thought haunting you. I want to know every part of you. You fought my demons, so I want to fight yours. And then we’re going to come back, and I’m going to help you out of bed every fucking morning until you’re strong enough to do it yourself. I don’t plan on losing you, sweetie, until I’ve found a way to die with you. And I plan on doing everything I can to keep you with me another hundred years.” 

Peter was stunned. In disbelief. But he nodded nonetheless, letting Wade indulge in his fantasy. There was a high chance his parents would stop this plan in its tracks, but for now, Peter just wanted to relax into the thought that he might not feel this shitty forever.   
“Okay?” 

“Yeah..that sounds like exactly what I need right now. Thanks.”


End file.
